


in my heart i have but one desire

by astralitte



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, Get together fic, M/M, Rated teen for swearing, jazz and music, no beta we burn like goro on 10/25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25086667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte
Summary: When Akira texts Goro at one in the morning, telling him that he's bought a record player, Goro isn't quite sure what to make of it.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 24
Kudos: 119
Collections: Day 1 - Jazz and Music





	in my heart i have but one desire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day One of Soft Goro Week 2020! [It comes with an art collab by the amazing k!!!](https://twitter.com/3muske_tears/status/1282163099227881472)
> 
> Thank you everyone in the Soft Goro Week Discord, especially my bros. You know who you are ♥

When his phone rings in the middle of the night, Goro briefly thinks about throwing his phone across the room and going back to sleep. He groans to himself, hoping that the message has nothing to do with work.

Rolling over in his futon, he slaps around the floor for his phone when the thought that _maybe_ Akira had messaged him darts across his mind. A flush creeps up his neck and he shakes his head, dispelling the silly thought. He picks up his phone, then grimaces. The message is actually from _him._

**Akira:** You awake?

 **Goro:** Kurusu-san, do you have any idea what time it is? 

**Goro:** Shouldn't you be sleeping? 

Goro watches the text box with an ellipsis on Akira’s end appear and disappear a few times. Why on earth is Akira messaging him at such an ungodly hour? He must be bored… But he can text his other friends. But it is late. Okay, maybe he is bored _and_ all his friends are asleep.

Yes, that had to be the reason. There is literally no other reason why Akira would text him at such an hour.

Satisfied with his own completely rational reasoning, Goro looks down at his phone to find a bunch of unread messages.

 **Akira:** Remember that jazz bar we went to?

 **Akira:** Well, I was in Shibuya the other day, and I found this jazz record store...

 **Akira:** There was also a sale going on so I bought some stuff.

 **Akira:** And a record player.

 **Akira:** Anyway, when you’re free... do you want to come over some time?

 **Akira:** I'll make you coffee and we can listen to the records together.

“W-what?” Goro splutters, nearly dropping his phone on his face. He scrambles to sit up and squints at his screen, rereading the messages several times.

...has he lost his mind? Is Akira actually texting him at one in the morning specifically to ask him out? He would have thought that Akira might have texted the wrong person if Akira hadn’t brought up their trip to the jazz bar.

Never mind. That doesn’t matter. It obviously isn’t a mistake, so there is only one thing Goro can do.

 **Goro:** Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow? It's one in the morning.

 **Goro:** Anyway, fine. I'm free on Wednesday.

 **Goro:** I'll see you at Leblanc after school.

 **Goro:** You should probably sleep. Good night.

 **Akira:** Looking forward to it.

 **Akira:** Good night, Akechi.

At the last message, Goro feels his ears going pink. Why the hell is Akira suddenly saying good night like that? And who the hell gave him the permission to drop the suffix in his name?!

Annoyed, Goro throws his phone across the room this time, but it (thankfully) lands on a cushion. “Idiot,” he mutters to himself, eyeing his phone.

It takes him a whole hour to calm his racing heart before he falls back asleep.

x

Wednesday takes forever to come. But if anyone asks, Goro will tell them that waiting for Wednesday definitely didn’t feel like it took five years. In fact, he was so busy that he barely had the time to even look at the clock. Not even a single time. Nope.

~~Okay, fine, he _only_ looked at the clock every few minutes for the last two days.~~

As soon as his school is done for the day, he plasters on a fake apologetic smile to every person who tries to talk to him and hastily makes his way to the train station. He had double-checked exactly what time the train will arrive, how long the commute will be, and when Akira may reach the store.

(He may or may not have planned it out in his head: him arriving at the store early, seated in his usual spot, reading a book, and when Akira comes in, he’d have to apologise for making Goro wait, and Goro will totally be casual and say something along the lines of “Oh, don’t worry about it”, then Akira will feel bad and somehow want to make up to him. Maybe with pancakes. Pancakes are always good. Not that he likes pancakes or anything.)

When the train comes three minutes late because someone dropped their god damned wallet onto the train tracks, Goro stifles a scream against his glove.

At Shibuya, he runs like hell to catch the next train in order to stay on schedule. He makes it, then spends the entire ride to Yongen-Jaya catching his breath. After tapping out at the station, he checks his watch and lets out a sigh of relief. He starts making his way to the coffee shop, pleased that his careful planning is still on track.

x

“You’re here early,” Akira supplies as Goro opens to the door to Leblanc, which startles Goro and makes him slam the door shut.

Goro’s eyes narrow at the messy-haired boy standing behind the counter, wearing an apron on top of his uniform. _How_ did he arrive at the store earlier? Clenching his fists, and only pouting a little, Goro walks further into the store.

“Doesn’t your school get off later than mine?” Goro questions, hoping that he doesn’t sound too obvious.

(He does.)

“It ended early today,” Akira answers with a shrug.

Goro tilts his head in question, but Akira doesn’t explain, so Goro sighs and looks around the shop.

“Where’s Sojiro?”

“He’s taken the day off.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, you can head up first. I’ll close up the store and join you shortly.”

Nodding somewhat dumbly, Goro drags himself up the stairs and drops his suitcase off next to Akira’s bag. He notices that there is a new table in the corner of the room, near the plant. A white record player sits on top of it with a few vinyl records neatly piled on the floor. He drifts towards them, belatedly noting in that back of his head that he probably should have asked Akira if he needed help.

Ah, well.

x

Fifteen minutes later, Akira walks up the stairs with a tray to find Goro seated on the floor next to the record player.

Goro looks up at Akira through his lashes—a calculated move—and soaks in the pink that tinges Akira’s cheeks. He makes a move to stand and help Akira with the tray, but Akira only shakes his head and plops himself down next to Goro.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Akira says. It makes a part of Goro squirms in delight.

“It’s fine,” Goro answers, smiling gently. “I probably should have helped you with closing.”

“Nah, that’s my job. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.” Goro picks up one of the records and waves it at Akira. “So, it seems like most of these are American…”

Akira picks up another record himself, turning it over in his hands. “Yeah,” he says. “The Japanese ones were snatched up pretty quickly. I still managed to get some great records though.”

Goro nods. “I was about to say so myself. Charlie Barnet’s one of my favourites. Ella Fitzgerald too.”

“I know,” Akira tells him with a wide grin. “I remember you saying that.”

Goro’s heart flutters, but he’s quick to shove the feelings bubbling up his throat back down. “How thoughtful.”

Akira continues to beam at him, and Goro swears that his eyes hurt from how much light is reflecting off those pearly white teeth. “Shall we listen to some jazz then?”

“This first?” Goro trades records with Akira, who takes it out of the cover and places it on the record player.

A crackling sounds from the player itself, and Goro notes with distaste that the player has built-in speakers. He forgets about it the moment Ella Fitzgerald starts crooning over the static, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

It brings back fond memories of his childhood, of happier days when his mother was still all curves and lucid—he remembers her swaying her hips to soft music, remembers her trying to sing songs in broken English, remembers her picking him up at the beck of tiny grabby hands, remembers her holding him close to her, remembers her dancing around the room with him in her arms.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Akira says softly.

Goro snaps out of his thoughts, cheeks flushed. He picks up his cup with a slight tremble in his hand. Akira shoots him a concerned look, but Goro just politely smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” He contemplates sharing his memories of his mother with Akira, but there really isn’t any reason to. Besides, why would Akira care about such a thing? The idiot looks so relaxed right now, staring at Goro with a lazily cocked eyebrow (not that most people would notice, given that fucking bird nest he calls his hair).

Akira leans in and peers into Goro’s eyes, a pout forming on his lips. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” he huffs.

Goro’s eyes widen, then darts away from Akira’s face. “W-why are you leaning in so close? Have some decency!” He lashes his hand out at Akira to make some space between them, and Akira sits back down, chuckling to himself.

“You’re cute,” Akira states, “and you still haven’t had any of your coffee.”

“R-right,” Goro chokes. He stares at the coffee in his hand, then takes a big gulp. The warm liquid caresses his tongue, bitter yet sweet. “Oh, this is good.”

"Of course. I made it with you in mind."

Is Akira _flirting_? Goro can hear his heart hammering in his ears and the cup rattling as he sets it back down on the saucer. “Are you up to something, Kurusu?”

Akira tugs at a strand of his fringe, rolling the lock between his fingers. “I guess you could say that,” he answers.

Goro glares at him. “If this is some kind of stupid ploy to get me to do something, spit it out already.”

“It’s nothing like that, Goro.”

 _Goro_. First, it was _Akechi_ , and now, _Goro_.

“Ah, sorry. May I call you by your first name?”

“You may," Goro replies, trying to push away the screaming in the back of his mind, “b-but not in front of the others.”

Happy with the reply, Akira takes a sip of his own coffee. When Goro thinks that Akira is about to stop talking and go back to enjoying the music, Akira suddenly says, “Well, that’s part one of my plan accomplished.”

The look that Goro shoots Akira has the man covering his mouth, suppressing a laughter.

x

When both sides of the record have been played, the constant hum of white noise buzzing, Akira leans his side against the wooden railings and stares at Goro.

“What?” Goro says.

“So... What were you thinking about earlier?” Akira questions. “You were smiling.”

“Was I?” Goro muses. It’s the first time he’s aware that thinking of his mother has brought a smile to his face. Usually, all he ever remembers are the last few years they spent together, when things kept going from bad to worse.

“Yeah. You’ve a really nice smile. When you’re not faking it, of course.”

Unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or an insult, Goro ignores Akira. He looks at his empty cup instead, then shifts to look through the records again. There are a couple of them that he doesn’t recognise.

When Akira notices Goro looking confused, he moves into Goro’s personal space once more—on purpose, Goro is sure of that—and looks at the records too. Goro can’t help but breathe in, taking in the scent of Akira’s hair. It smells like coffee, like curry, like Leblanc, but it also smells like gunpowder, like rain, like _home_. Goro adjusts his tie absent-mindedly, heart skipping.

“Goro?”

Goro blinks. Akira is peering at him again, a touch of amusement colouring his eyes.

“I was just saying that the club owner recommended that band,” Akira tells him, nodding his chin towards the record Goro has stopped at.

“Oh,” Goro says. “‘The Ink Spots’? I’ve never heard of this band.”

“The jazz club played it once… You weren’t there though.”

“You went there again?”

Akira shrugs, bumping his shoulder into the table on which the record player sat. Not that it fazes him. Goro feels a sting of jealousy, however. Did Akira take someone to the jazz club? It’s a place that Goro’s never shared with anyone else, so…

“Ah, I guess I missed it,” Goro eventually says, a tight smile spread across his face.

Akira finally moves back after extracting the record from Goro’s hands. “I figured. That’s why I was so excited when I saw this at the store. Remember that day when I texted you but you were busy? Well, I ended up going to the club alone. Anyway, when one of their songs played, it made me think of you.”

Something heavy that Goro didn’t know was there before lifts from his chest, and it eases his expression into something gentler, into something akin to hope. “Is that so?” he grumbles, running a gloved finger along the lines of the wooden board.

“Yeah!” Akira exclaims without further explanation. He turns to the record player and swaps the records.

“Why aren’t you playing it?”

Akira’s eyes slide over, his face flushed. “Actually,” he starts off nervously, “I was hoping if you’d humour me? This song isn’t really considered jazz though…”

Goro cocks an eyebrow in question.

Akira stands up, patting dust off his trousers. He flashes Goro a sheepish grin and reaches a hand towards him. “Stand up?”

“What?” Goro looks at him suspiciously before tentatively taking his hand. He is yanked up immediately, catching him off guard and making him stumble into Akira. He mumbles an apology and pretends that he most definitely does not enjoy having his face pressed into Akira’s chest.

Stabilising Goro, Akira starts to chew on his own bottom lip. “So… will you dance with me?”

Goro pushes himself away from Akira’s chest—well, he was resting there for a few seconds longer than what is considered normal anyway—and splutters. “What do you mean by that?”

“Is there any other way to interpret that?” Akira chuckles. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Then, without waiting for Goro’s reply, Akira is starting the record and dragging Goro to the centre of the room, nudging Goro’s arms around his neck and placing his own around Goro’s waist.

Too shocked to comprehend the absurdity of the situation, Goro simply allows it.

A guitar starts to strum through the speakers.

“ _I don’t want to set the world on fire_ ,” Akira softly sings along with the singer in English. “ _I just want to start a flame in your heart…_ ”

Goro’s breath catches. He has always been placed first for exams in his school—he will never allow himself any less—but even then, he isn’t that proficient. It kills him to admit that it takes him a lot of effort to understand what the song lyrics are.

“ _In my heart I have but one desire… And that one is you, no other will do…”_

Wait. Wait, wait, _wait._ Is Akira trying to tell him something? They are just standing there, swaying to the music, and— god damn it, Goro can’t think.

“ _I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim. I just want to be the one you love,_ ” Akira keeps murmuring into Goro’s ear. “ _And with your admission that you’d feel the same, I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of, believe me—_ ”

“Kurusu,” Goro gasps, pulling himself away from Akira. “What are you…?”

Akira stops singing and looks at Goro, worry apparent on his face. “Do you not like it?”

“I do, but that’s not the point!”

“So you do like it?”

“Akira!”

“Did you just call me by my first name?”

“That’s not the point!” Goro shouts. He can’t stop blushing. He feels like his head is spinning, like his heart is jackhammering, like he can’t breathe.

There is a sudden change in Akira’s demeanour, all the playfulness melting away. “Should I stop?”

Goro shakes his head aggressively. “That’s not what I mean. I just—I don’t want to misunderstand what’s going on here.”

Akira tugs Goro closer, his eyes fixated on Goro’s lips. “I’ve wanted to do this since we met at the TV station.”

Open mouthed, Goro allows himself to be kissed. It’s something he has never let himself dream of. _This_. Him and Akira. Even though he has always wanted it. Because despite how similar they are, Goro has never thought that Akira would even think about him like that, and, _and._

“Akira,” Goro sighs into Akira’s lips, and Akira seem to take it as a form of consent, because the infuriating man is carding both his hands into Goro’s hair and kissing him deeper. It’s so wet, so soft, that Goro can’t help but think: is this what kissing is like? Like he’s drowning, like he can’t breathe, but he can’t stop, _god,_ he doesn’t ever want to stop.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this,” Akira mutters when they eventually pull away from each other. He wraps his arms around Goro’s head tightly, burying his face into the crook of Goro’s neck. “I like you here, Goro. I like you so much.”

It stuns Goro, but he somehow manages to wrap his arms around Akira too. “Me too,” he quietly admits.

“I’m so happy,” Akira says.

“I never thought that you would feel this way,” Goro blurts. “I thought…”

“That’s because you’re so in over your head sometimes, Goro.”

“Hey!”

“But you’ll be with me, yeah? You’ll go out with me?”

Goro fumbles for his words, unable to actually think when Akira’s being so forward, so… _cute._ Eventually, he nods his head, only regretting it slightly when Akira uncovers his face only to beam at Goro with an intensity that can disintegrate anything in its way.

“Idiot,” Goro scolds Akira, but he can’t find himself to fault Akira for being happy when they’re stood in the middle of the attic in each other’s arms, dancing to music that’s serenading about love.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's also a little bonus screenshot for one of the scenes in the fic, taken in Sims 4 with a heck ton of mods over on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/astralitte/status/1282163148347203586)


End file.
